


Reality

by yetispice



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recruitment, School Shootings, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetispice/pseuds/yetispice
Summary: It was a school for Christ’s sake, but that hadn’t mattered to Jeremiah Wagner. It had only taken him twenty-five minutes to shoot eighty-seven people with a modded AR-15. Thirty-eight students, three teachers, and two of the school’s security guards were pronounced dead at the scene. The news was playing in the waiting room, full of terrified parents, and the anchor was calling the Midtown Tech shooting the deadliest to date. Normally this was when Tony would feel his heart break but instead he couldn’t even feel it beating.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Homecoming in the universe where Thanos disappeared in 2014.

Shortly after Tony had started spending more time with Peter he had decided to do some research on Midtown Tech. It was a private school with a hefty tuition, which Tony had insisted on paying, “A perk of the internship,” he had explained to May. Most importantly, however, it had strict entrance standards. All of the students admitted to Midtown had achieved some form of academic excellence before they had applied. Hell, as far as Tony could tell, the only standard courses the school offered were state mandated, everything else was AP or technical.

 

Tony would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt pride swell in his chest when he hacked into the school’s database and looked at Peter’s transcripts. He had decided then and there to make a donation to the school. The kid, all the kids really, deserved to have access to best lab equipment available. He drafted the proposal and sent it to the other members of the September Foundation and after Pepper had signed off on, “A reasonable amount, Tony,” he scheduled a meeting with the Principle of the school.

 

In retrospect, Tony wished he insured some of the donation would go to upping the school’s security.

 

That was part of the problem, though, wasn’t it? He’d fell for the ruse, the security theatre, he’d seen the security guards at the entrance of the school and felt safe. Tony knew school shooting happened. He was painfully aware of the statistics, every time he turned on the news and saw that there had been another one his heart ached for the children who’s futures had been stolen away from them. Maybe it was arrogance or denial, but when Tony passed the security guards at Midtown Tech he had truly believed that nothing bad would ever happen there. How could it, with the rows of lockers, and posters for prom and the graffiti naming the boy’s bathroom the Juul-Room?

 

It was a school for Christ’s sake, but that hadn’t mattered to Jeremiah Wagner. It had only taken him twenty-five minutes to shoot eighty-seven people with a modded AR-15. Thirty-eight students, three teachers, and two of the school’s security guards were pronounced dead at the scene. The news was playing in the waiting room, full of terrified parents, and the anchor was calling The Midtown Tech shooting the deadliest to date. Normally this was when Tony would feel his heart break but instead he couldn’t even feel it beating.

 

All he could think about was how _Peter,_ the remarkable kid he’d started to think of as his, was laying in an operating room with four bullets in his chest.


	2. AP English

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ had never felt like this before. Like she was secondary in her own body. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears, she could feel how dry her mouth had gotten and she knew her hands and feet had gone numb. She was here, in her body, but she couldn’t move it. She couldn’t move it to save her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter is graphic.

 

MJ typically avoided strong emotions. She liked to operate in the realm of bored orannoyed or even slightly amused. MJ didn’t like the word hate but as she stared at the book report Mr. Nash handed back, she felt it bubbling up. He had finished passing out the papers and was now leaning against his desk going on about how proud he was of everyone’s work. Which would have been nice if he wasn’t a tool. He was a cishet middle-aged white guy who regularly blurred the lines between cultural appreciation and appropriation. He’d published two books of poetry and had both proudly displayed on his desk. One was titled _What the Far East Taught Me_ and the other _Her Silver Spun Hair_. Douche.

 

At least he hadn’t made them have class outside today. MJ had forgotten her antihistamines at home and didn’t think she could handle breathing in pollen and pollution this early. She scrawled _Pollen and Pollution—terrible superhero’s_ in the margin of her notes then went back to the book report. MJ huffed, earning a glare from Stephanie, the girl sitting next to her. Whatever.

 

The issue was that MJ knew she deserved an A.The prompt had been _Misfits: How literature is used to subvert social norms._ Easy peasy. Except none of the recommended books were that subversive. So, she had decided to write about _Orlando_ — one of the longest lasting pieces of trans literature. It really doesn’t get more subversive than that. MJ re-read the sentence penned at the top of her paper. _Doesn’t fit the prompt— paragraph on Woolf’s antisemitism unnecessary. 82 for craftsmanship._

 

MJ huffed again and slid the essay under her notebook. Someone had gotten Mr. Nash on a tangent about publishing agencies. Again. She decided it wasn’t likely Mr. Nash would notice and pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack. She started outlining _Pollen and Pollution— the worlds worst crime fighting duo_ while she waited on the bell to ring.

 

MJ smirked to herself as drew she drew Pollen misting a bad guy from a sunflower shaped hand repulsor. Peter would definitely get a kick out of that. Maybe she’d show him at lunch. MJ chewed her lip, a nervous habit, and glanced around to make sure no one was looking at her. It was stupid, the whole thing was stupid, Peter Parker was stupid. Except he definitely wasn’t stupid he was probably the smartest person she’d ever met. MJ hated this, too, this dumb crush she had developed on Peter Parker.

 

The people around her started packing up so she flipped her sketchbook closed and slipped everything but the essay into her backpack. Mr. Nash had third period free and usually spent it smoking cigarettes in his car. She’d have to corner him before he made it to the door.

 

The bell rang and MJ glared her way to the front of the classroom, daring anybody to get in her way, while Mr. Nash slipped his phone out of his desk. When he looked up, she was standing between him and the door while the other student’s filtered out. He locked his phone and smiled at her. “Michelle, what can I do for you?”

 

“How does a book about a trans woman, written in nineteen twenty-eight, not count as subversive literature?”

 

Mr. Nash’s smile dropped, “Well, _Orlando_ is more of an epic, and there were plenty of other books on the list, like _Heart of Darkness_ —.” MJ raised her eyebrows at him and he sputtered before continuing, “I just mean, Orlando’s _…_ transition… while physical, is done to teach him a lesson about what it means to be a woman, written from the prospective of a woman. Orlando never sets out to become a woman, it just happens to him. That’s why it’s more of an epic rather than societally subversive.”

 

MJ countered, “Oh, but a book about the dangers of colonialism in Africa written by a white European is?”

 

The man sighed and crossed his arms, “Look, I’ll let you rewrite the essay as long as you choose one of the books on the approved list.” He moved to walked past her and MJ scoffed, “Have you even read _Orlando_?” Mr. Nash turned back around. _Okay_ , she thought, _that might have been too far._ He opened his mouth, probably to give her detention, but was cut off.

 

By _firecrackers?_

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._ A pause. _Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

Then the screaming started. People didn’t scream like _that_.

 

_Holy Shit. Those are gun shots._

 

Mr. Nash whipped back around and over his shoulder MJ could see people running down the hallway. _Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._ Both her and Mr. Nash were frozen. A few student’s ran into the classroom looked for hiding spots. Jason, the kid from the morning announcements, was one of them. “He’s got a gun,” Jason yelled at Mr. Nash. The screaming had gotten so much louder. _I should get under the desk,_ MJ thought.

 

The only problem was that she couldn’t move.

 

A blonde girl that MJ vaguely recognized as a freshman collapsed next to door. She was having a panic attack. Mr. Nash shoved Jason further into the room and handed him his cell phone. “Call 911. Michelle lock the door.” _I can’t move. I can’t lock the door._

 

_I need to move._

 

Mr. Nash bolted into the hallway and another round of shots rang out. They had gotten closer. MJ noticed that nobody was running down the hallway anymore.

 

_Dammit, Michelle, move!_

 

There was a crash, then more screaming, followed by the longest round of gunshots yet. They sounded like the were coming from Mrs. Esposito’s classroom. 

 

The blonde girl had pulled out her cellphone, she was sobbing into it, “Mom, mom, there’s a guy, he’s shooting—.”

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._ The girl screamed.

 

MJ looked at Jason, who was fumbling with the phone Mr. Nash had given him. “I, there’s a password, I can’t,” He glanced up at her, then over to the door. _I can’t move,_ she tried to tell him. _The door’s open, I need to lock it._ All she could do was shake her head at him, still standing between the door and the desk.

 

MJ had never felt like this before. Like she was secondary in her own body. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears, she could feel how dry her mouth had gotten and she knew her hands and feet had gone numb. She was here, in her body, but she couldn’t move it. She couldn’t move it to save her life.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

MJ heard a thump, _Oh my God, That was a_ _body._

 

The girl screamed again.

 

In sync, MJ and Jason looked at the door. The gunman was walking towards them. They could hear him. His shoes were squelching against the tile floor. MJ gulped. It wasn’t raining, they were squelching because they were soaked with blood. _Holy Shit._

 

Suddenly MJ had control of her body again. Jason leapt to shut the door and MJ ducked and slid under Mr. Nash’s desk. She’d dropped her backpack on floor when she moved. Her cell phone was in her backpack. The blonde girl was still sobbing to her mom. MJ wished she could call her mom.

 

Instead, she curled up as small as she could and put her fist in her mouth. _Don’t scream._ _All you have to do is stay still and don’t scream and he won’t be able to see you._ MJ knew it wasn’t true. There was an inch gap between the desk and the floor but it was all she had, so she chanted it in her head.

 

_He can’t see you. Don’t scream. He can’t see you._

 

MJ heard the lock click at the same time Jason said, “Fuck.” She briefly registered that Jason was still at the door. _He can see Jason._ _Don’t scream._

 

_Bang, Bang, bang, bang. Scream. Thump._

 

_Crash._

 

_He must have shot the lock._ MJ bit her fist harder and clamped her eyes shut. _Don’t scream. Don’t scream._

 

“Please—.” _Bang, bang,_ _bang._

 

_Thump._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dramatic ass hoe. 
> 
> The next several chapters will be extremely graphic. 
> 
> Come say hey on tumblr. https://iamironmaam.tumblr.com


	3. APUSH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something had to be wrong. His spidey sense never went off for no reason and it had only ever gone off like this once. Don’t think about Ben.

Peter stared at his history notes and ignored the worried glances Ned kept sending him. Maybe if he stared at the page long enough, the information would be imprinted in his brain. Like a forced photographic memory or something. Peter chewed his pencil. The test was tomorrow and he was going to fail if he didn’t skip patrol tonight and cram.

 

This had been one of his easiest subjects before the bite. Now, Peter didn’t have the time to memorize every detail of US History. He would rather spend his time being Spiderman but Aunt May had made it clear. If his grades dropped he would be grounded until he pulled them back up.

 

Peter rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. Everything was just too distracting. He’d stayed up late last night and now the fluorescents were killing him. On top of that there was a fly buzzing around the classroom. Every minute or so it’d buzz past but make sure to stay out of swatting range. Peter scowled at it. _Land on my desk, bitch, I’ll end your whole career._

 

There was also the pounding at the base of his skull.

 

Peter wasn’t sure what, but something was off. Since he’d woken up, his spidey sense had been thrumming persistently, getting harder and hard to ignore as the day went on. Ned looked over again and Peter realized he was tapping his foot. _Sorry_ , he mouthed to Ned.

 

_Are you good?_ Ned mouthed back.

 

He shrugged and Ned’s face scrunched in concern. Peter sighed and popped the cap off his highlighter. _The Seneca Falls Convention was called for women to assert their rights. It was, “A convention to discuss the social, civil, and religious condition and rights of woman.”_ Peter sighed, he was so screwed. He didn’t even remember when Mrs. Tubbman went over this.

 

“Okay, Class,” she called from the front of the room, “Don’t forget to study the three topics on the back of the study guide, one of them will be the essay portion of the test.” Peter shoved his notes into his backpack and resigned to spend lunch looking over them. The other students packed their things away and Peter did his best to ignore it. Everything was so loud today.

 

Suddenly, his spidey sense screeched.

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Peter screwed his eyes shut and focused on keeping his breathing even. It felt like his head was splitting open and his stomach lurched. The bell rang and Peter couldn’t stop his flinch. When he was sure he wasn’t going to cry out, he cracked one eye open and looked for the source of the warning. Instead, he found Ned standing next to his desk. “Dude, you don’t look so good,” Ned whispered. Peter stood up and glanced around. _What?_

 

Something had to be wrong. His spidey sense never went off for no reason and it had only ever gone off like _this_ once. _Don’t think about Ben._

 

_Maybe I need to see Tony after school,_ Peter thought. He continued to scan the classroom, but the more he looked, the more normal everything seemed. Most of the students had already left for their next class. _What?_ He stood up and his vision swam.

 

Peter put a hand on his desk to steady himself. The throbbing in the back of his head hadn’t gotten worse but it hadn’t gotten better either. “Maybe you should go to the nurse,” Ned suggested. Peter nodded and whispered, “I think I need to go see Mr. Stark.”

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

Instantly, he froze. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Ned stared at him, wide eyed, and from behind him Flash asked, “Were those gunshots?”

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

Mrs. Tubbman ran to the door, “Get out of the hallways!” she yelled and student’s started flooding back into the classroom. Without thinking, Peter grabbed his backpack and sprinted out the door.

 

_No way, not here,_ he thought.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

“Mr. Parker!” His teacher screamed from behind him. She was almost drowned out by all the other screaming that had started. Peter crashed into students as they ran for cover. He body checked one boy but, before he could hit the ground, Peter grabbed him and shoved him towards the nearest classroom.

 

_I need to change._ Peter slammed into the door of the boys bathroom.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

There were two boys, freshman if Peter had to guess, standing in the bathroom frozen with terror. _Shit,_ Peter thought, followed by, _fuck it._ He yanked his shirt off and kicked out of his shoes. The boys were staring at him.

 

“Listen,” he told the taller of the two, “It sounds like the shooter is downstairs, hold the door open and get anyone who’s still in the hallway in here.” The boy looked at him blankly.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

_I don’t have time for this,_ Peter reached out and shook him, harder than he meant to, “What’s your name?”

 

“Kyle,” the boy answered.

 

“Okay, Kyle, I need you to help anyone still in the hallways into here, okay? But if the gunshots sound like they’re coming up the stairs, lock the door, alright?” Kyle nodded and sprang into action. Peter shimmied out of his jeans and pulled his suit out of his backpack.

 

“Holy shit! You’re Spiderman,” the other boy said. Peter slipped the mask over his face and tapped the spider emblem on his chest. The suit fitted to his body and Karen’s chipper voice filled his ears.

 

“Hello, Peter, your heart rate is unusually high—.”

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

Peter crawled up to the window at the top of the bathroom and kicked it open. “The shooter is on the first floor, Peter.” Peter had never been so grateful for Karen’s calm and measured voice. He slipped out the window and dropped to the ground outside the school.

 

“Call NYPD and let them know there’s a shooter at Midtown Tech,” he ran to the frontof the building. “Already done,” she said, “Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?” Peter reached the front doors and stopped.

 

He could see Mr. Glasgow and Mr. Henry, the school’s security guards, laying just inside of the door. Peter had always been friendly with the two men. Just this morning, Mr. Henry had told him his daughter would be starting at Midtown next fall.

 

_That’s a lot of blood._

 

Softly, Karen spoke, “I can’t detect a pulse, Peter.” He took a shaky breath, “Call Mr. Stark.” Peter opened the doors and stepped inside, almost slipping on a puddle of blood while the phone in his mask rang.

 

Peter stopped.

 

Even with the filter in his mask he could smell the blood. He almost gagged. It filled his nose, threatening to plunge him into a panic attack. _Don’t think about Ben._

 

Peter forced himself to take a few steps into the hallway. Mr. Stark’s face popped into view at the edge of his vision, “Kid, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Now that Peter was further in the building he could see more bodies laying on the ground. With horror, he realized he recognized some of them.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

_Jesus,_ the gunshots were so much louder down here.

 

Tony whipped his sunglasses off, “Were those _gunshots?_ ” Peter made his way down the hallway, careful to not step on anyone. He started breathing out of his mouth and hoped that might keep the nausea at bay.

 

_Don’t focus on them, Parker._

 

“…Peter, where are you?” Tony must have been speaking for a while already because Peter could hear the panic building in his voice. He shook his head, he needed snap out of it and be Spiderman, “Midtown. There’s a shooter in the building.”

 

“Fuck,” Tony breathed.

 

Peter continued to creep down the hallway forcing himself to keep his eyes moving. _Don’t linger._ _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it._ There was something wrong with the bullet wounds. Peter stopped. “Karen, what am I looking at?” Peter forced himself to focus on the wound and not the person’s face. _Keep it together, Parker._

 

“I seems like the bullets explode on impact,” Karen said.

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang._ A girl screamed.

 

Tony, who had started barking orders into his StarkPhone stopped. “Peter that sounds like an automatic, your suit isn’t bullet proof, get out of there.”

 

Peter’s spidey sense spiked and he ducked behind a row of lockers. “Peter, listen to me—.”

 

_Bang, bang, bang._

 

“Mute call.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye Peter could see Tony screaming at him, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Karen asked. _No_ , Peter wasn’t sure, but Spiderman was.

 

He could hear the shooter, he was heading for the stairwell. Peter jumped and stuck to the ceiling, crawling down the hallway. _Good,_ the shooter had his back to him.

 

The shooter pulled something out of a duffle bag strapped to his waist. _He’s reloading,_ Peter thought. He scurried to get closer knowing that this would be his best shot at subduing the guy. He’d get in range and tackle him from the ceiling. _Easy peasy._

 

As he closed in, Peter realized he recognized the shooter and faltered. His foot slipped and Peter gasped and looked down, his feet were wet, he’d left a trail of red footprints across the ceiling. _Don't think about it._

 

The shooter glanced up. _Yeah,_ Peter definitely recognized him. He was a sophomore, he’d been in Peter’s engineering lab last semester. The boy shoved the cartridge into slot and aimed the gun at him.

 

Peter froze.

 

“Move,” Karen suggested.

 

Peter dropped to the ground, the boy swore and fired. Peter, on instinct alone, lurched to the side. The boy kept his gun pointed at Peter while he backed into the stairwell.

 

They edges of his screen turned red and Karen notified him, “Two of the bullets made impact on the right side of your body. I believe some of the shrapnel has pierced your lung.”

 

Peter gasped for air, and the boy ran up the stairs. Peter glanced down, blood was spreading across his suit, turning the blue into a deep purple. Peter aimed one of his web shooters at himself and fired. _That should slow the blood loss._

 

He aimed his other web shooter at the top of the stairs and jumped, swinging to a stop on the second floor. He was getting dizzy now. _Was he having a panic attack?_

 

_Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang._

 

Briefly, Peter noted that not everyone had made it to shelter.

 

_Don’t think about it._

 

The boy was running now. Only stopping to shoot into closed classroom doors. _He’s panicking_ , Peter thought.

Peter chased after him and when he was close enough Karen said, “Tazer webs, activated.” _Thanks, Karen._ Peter aimed and fired, hitting the boy straight in the back, and Peter ran to disarm him.

 

As the boy hit the ground, Peter heard a snap and the gun started going off, skidding across the floor. Bullets rained across the hallway and Peter felt himself get hit again as he made it to the shooter.

 

_Don’t think about it._

 

Peter shot at web at the gun, stopping it’s spiral across the floor, and the cartridge emptied itself into a row of lockers. Peter looked down and shot a web at the shooter, pinning him to the floor.

 

Peter gagged, again, blood coating the inside of his mask. The boy, Jeremy, he suddenlyrecalled, wasn’t doing so hot. He’d been hit by some of the bullets. Peter pulled the bottom of his mask up and vomited. No one’s head should be caved in like that.

 

_Fuck._

 

Peter dropped to the floor and winced.

 

“Fuck,” Mr. Stark’s, voice filter through his comm. “Peter!”

 

Peter vomited again. It was red. He looked down and, _yeah,_ he’d definitely taken a few more bullets.

 

He shot more webbing at his chest while Mr. Stark screamed his name. Peter wanted to tell him to stop. He wanted to tell him it was okay. That, he was okay. Peter noticed his vision start to go dark. He wasn’t okay, but still, he should tell Mr. Stark he was.

 

_Don’t think about it._

 

Except now seemed like the perfect time to think about it. To remember his loved ones. _Yikes,_ Peter thought, _I’m pretty sure I’m dying._

 

That was okay, though. It had to be. It was what Ben had told him that night. While he bled out on the sidewalk. He’d taken Peter’s hand, wet with blood, and said that it was okay, that everything was going to be okay.

 

Peter wished his could grab Mr. Stark’s hand and tell him, _everything was going to be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thanks to everyone that's commented and left kudos. I was pretty nervous about posting this and all your support has helped a lot. 
> 
> Like always, the next chapter is going to be graphic.


	4. Code Orange

The nurses’ station faced the waiting room of the ER in Queens General and that’s why May had requested the transfer. When she was a kid, her dad was diagnosed with brain cancer, and something about being in the inpatient ward made her claustrophobic. Not the ER though. The waiting room had these huge glass windows that she could look out of while she did her paperwork. She glanced up from the charts she was processing.

 

The waiting room was empty except for an elderly woman, who’d brought her husband in earlier. She was still sitting in the same chair she had sat in after her husband was admitted. May stood to check on her, to see if she wanted some coffee or anything, when her pager beeped. 

 

Code orange.

 

Queens General didn’t get a code orange very often but she knew what it meant. There had been some kind of disaster, and they were the closest hospital, so they’d be getting the worst trauma patients. Chief Caruso would want to brief everyone on the situation and start prepping the trauma rooms. May clipped the pager back to her pants and pushed her chair in.

 

Carrie, the nurse who was working the station with May, glanced down at her own pager. “I bet it’s an apartment fire, somebody probably forgot to turn off their coffee pot.”

 

Carrie was new, she’d just graduated from nursing school the year before and thought the ER was exciting. May liked her but she had a habit of forgetting the patients were real people. “We should probably head to the break room,” May suggested.

 

Before they could leave, Luis, one of the residents, rounded the corner with his phone in his hand.

 

“What’s the local news station,” asked Luis.

 

“Five, I think,” Carrie said as she handed him the remote.

 

Luis grabbed it from her and changed the channel on the TV in the waiting room.

 

“—Interrupt this program for breaking news,” the anchor said, “We’ve just been informed that there is an active shooter at Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

 

“Jesus,” Luis muttered, “I’ve got a cousin who goes there.”

 

May felt like she had been ripped from her body and replaced with fuzz. That was Peter’s school. Schools were supposed to be safe, she knew they weren’t, not anymore, but she never imagined she’d see her kid’s school on the news. Not like this anyway. She felt someone put a hand on her back and looked over to see that Luis was watching her. She turned back to the TV. 

 

“So far, we know that Police and First Responders have arrived at the school, but once again, we are unsure if the shooter is still an active threat.”

 

Carrie looked over at May “Doesn’t your son go there?”

 

She nodded. Luis started rubbing her back and leaned in, “He’s probably okay.” May nodded again, her eyes glued to the TV.

 

“We’ll have an update from Andrew Mosley, who’s arriving at the scene, in a few moments.” Then the anchor took a shaky breath, “While we wait, I’d like to take a moment to say our hearts go out to the students and the families of the students—,”

 

“I’ll fill you in on the briefing, go, call your kid,” Luis said.

 

May turned and pushed her way out of the group of staff that had formed behind the desk. _When had they got there?_

 

She was going to break down. She knew it. She didn’t want to be surrounded by people when she did. She walked into the waiting room. The old woman had moved, she was standing now, watching the TV with a hand over her mouth. May pulled her phone out of her scrubs and kept walking until she was out of the building.

 

She speed dialed Peter and put the phone to her ear.

 

_Ring._

 

She waited. Any second now, Peter would pick up.

 

_Ring._

 

He would answer, he would know how worried she was and he would answer.

 

_Ring._

 

She felt like she was having a heart attack.

 

_Ring._

 

_Come on, Pete._

 

_Ring._

 

_Hey, It’s Peter, leave a voice mail— or, you know, a text,_ Peter snickered.

 

Okay, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal, Peter alway kept his phone on silent while he was a school. He’d check his phone, see that she called and call her back. No big deal. Well, it would be a big deal, because she would rip him a new one for making her worry. He’d definitely be grounded, no Spiderman—.

 

_Fuck._

 

Now she was definitely having a heart attack because how had she forgotten about Spiderman? Of course her kid wasn’t okay. He’d confront the shooter. He’d see it as his job to confront them.

 

_Fuck._

 

She opened her contacts and scrolled until she reached _Stark._ She pressed call and held the phone back up to her ear.

 

_Ring._

 

“May,” Tony’s voice filled the receiver. He didn’t sound okay and validated the gut wrenching feeling that building inside of her.

 

“Peter, is he…” She whispered into her phone.

 

Tony hesitated and May felt the tears she didn’t know she was fighting spill over.

 

“No, hey, listen to me. He’s alive, his suit says he alive,” he hesitated again, “he was shot, but he’s alive, and I’m in a suit, and I’m on my way to get him, okay?”

 

May sobbed.

 

“May, do you remember when you found out Peter was Spiderman?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What did I tell you?”

 

May shook her head, “You said—.”

 

“Exactly, I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to him and I’m not, okay?”

 

She wanted to argue. She wanted to scream at him because something had already happened to Peter. He wasn’t God, he couldn’t promise that her kid would be fine just because he wanted it. But she couldn’t. Not when his voice sounded as wrecked as she felt.

 

“Listen, May, I’ve got to go, but you work at Queens General, right?”

 

May wiped her eyes, “Yeah.”

 

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Tony—!”

 

_Beep. Beep._

 

May huffed and slid the phone into her pants. Peter was hurt but she’d already guessed that, hadn’t she? He wasn’t dead and she could work with that. She had to.

 

Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she could hear sirens in the distance. She wiped her eyes again and steeled herself, because, yeah, her boy had been shot, but he wasn’t the only one, and she would never forgive herself if she sat around wringing her hands while kids needed help.

 

After all this was over, she’d pitch a fit, let Tony know exactly how _not okay_ it was to hang up on her but she’d also thank him. He reminded her she had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is super inaccurate, I got all my medical knowledge from Grey's Anatomy so....


	5. The Caveman

The thing about panic is that it’s reactionary. An after-the-fact, fight or flight response to a precursive event. Tony’s problem was that he’d somehow gotten his wires crossed. Get kidnapped by terrorists? Reaction? Fight. A wormhole opens up over Manhattan? Reaction? Fight. A nightmare about either of the two? Reaction? Flight.

 

It just didn’t make sense.

 

It was an evolutionary failsafe. A caveman steps out of his cave and boom. There’s a lion. It’s nasty, big teeth, bigger claws, and it’s got the blood of another caveman dripping down it’s chin. In one hand, the caveman has a spear, in the other, the keys to his cave. He’s got seconds to make the decision. Fight or flight. Clearly, the lion is good at turning cavemen into lunch, so the decision should be easy. Turn around, step back into the cave and give his cavewoman a kiss on the cheek.

 

Easy.

 

Instead, the caveman charges the lion, knowing that he’ll probably die, hoping he won’t, but, come on, the lion has teeth and claws and all the caveman has is a sharp rock tied to a stick, all so that when his cavewoman steps out of the cave there won’t be a lion waiting for her.

 

And would you believe it? The caveman lives and now him and the cavewoman are eating lion for lunch.

 

Except, now, the failsafe is too good. Now the caveman can’t step out of his cave because what if there’s a lion pacing in front of the entrance? And the caveman knows that there are other lions, lions are pack hunters, and that if one lion can hang out, nothing is stopping the others, so the caveman decides to build something to stop the lions from hanging out, but he’s a caveman, so it doesn’t really work, and he’s still terrified that whenever he steps out of the cave there will be a lion, and his cavewoman is concerned about him, so he bucks up and decides to spend the rest of his days pretending not to be afraid of the probable lions sunbathing on his welcome mat. 

 

_Where was he going with this?_

 

Oh, right, panic.

 

Tony was definitely panicking right now. He recognized the signs. His hands were sweaty, his heart was pounding in his ears, and all he could see was Peter’s pale face on his display. He wasn’t in a fight but the reaction had been triggered. His messed up brain was flashing _WARNING_ as loudly as it could just because he wasn’t in a fight for his life. All he could do was watch Peter’s vitals steadily decrease and hope that two minutes and thirty-four seconds wasn’t too late.

It really might be.

 

“Breath, sir,” Friday reminded him.

 

Panic attacks in the suit were the worst. He’d never been particularly claustrophobic but when he couldn’t breathe he was acutely aware of how little space there was between the suit and himself. Which was fucked, because the suit usually made him feel safe. Now he just felt trapped. It was ridiculous. The suit had a top notch ventilation system, he knew it because he designed it, but he couldn’t breath. It was like every exhale filled the helmet with CO2 so there was less oxygen in every inhale.

 

“Would you like me to retract the faceplate, sir?”

 

The screen was reading that he had another minute and a half before he reached Midtown.

 

“No, any chance we could pick up the pace?”

 

“No, sir, you’ve reached max velocity in the Mark 47.”

 

Tony sighed. The Mark 50 was faster, but it wasn’t ready yet, so he’d settled for this. He was kicking himself about it. Having the Mark 50 dematerialize while he was flying would be better than being too late.

 

“I’ve picked up that police and paramedics have entered the building.”

 

“Good, what else?”

 

“Helen and her team have taken off from the Compound, they should arrive at Queens General in twenty-three minutes… Also, according to Karen’s report, the shooter has been neutralized.”

 

He could see the school now. A crowd had gathered and police were ushering them back so ambulances could leave. The Iron Legion would come in handy right about now but he had decommissioned them. _One problem at a time, Stark._

 

His display locked onto Peter’s suit, second floor, and plotted the easiest route in. Tony ignored it and decided that crashing through a window would be faster. Which he did. Into a classroom full of terrified students huddled in the corner. He didn’t particularly care that he might have just re-tramuatized and bunch of high-schoolers.

 

No, his focus was on Peter.

 

He walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. It reminded him of Gulmira but he didn’t have time to think about that. He had eyes on Peter.

 

The kid looked bad. There were various patches of webbing on his chest, some had turned pink in the center, and his suit was soaked in some areas. His mask was pulled up over his nose and he was turned on his side so he wouldn’t choke on the steady stream of bile mixed with blood that was running out of his mouth. Tony had never really noticed just how small Peter was until now. Lying on his side, the kid looked every inch of sixteen years old.

 

Tony had seen Peter roughed up before, but never like this. Now that he had he wasn’t sure he would ever un-see it.

 

_Please don’t steal him,_ he thought as he stepped closer.

 

One of Peter’s friends, Ned he thought his name was, was sitting next to him. The kid had made a tourniquet out of his hoodie and was applying pressure to a wound on Peter’s thigh. The kid didn’t even notice Tony walking towards them.

 

“Scan him,” The kid jerked back and Tony noticed his cheeks were tear stained.

 

Immediately, Friday started scanning Peter and Tony knelt on the other side of him. The kid put his hand back on the tourniquet then started, “The webbing seemed to work to stop the bleeding, but I couldn’t get the web shooters to work, so I had to use my jacket, but he’s bleeding, a lot, and he isn’t conscious, I don’t think—.”

 

Talking seemed to calm the kid down, so he let him ramble while Friday gave her report.

 

“I believe Peter was shot six times, but the wounds are peculiar, the webbing is keeping him from bleeding out, but he’s bleeding internally, there is a worrisome amount of fluid built up in his lungs and around his heart, which is only getting worse because the shrapnel is moving.”

 

Tony raked his eyes over Peter while she talked. _Why on earth was there so much shrapnel?_

 

“Fuck, any suggestions, Fri?”

 

The kid stopped rambling.

 

“The shrapnel in his right leg is in the most danger of working it’s way to his heart, the webbing trapped some of the shrapnel in the other wounds. I would suggest webbing the leg and seeking immediate medical attention.”

 

Tony nodded, “Lift the plate.”

 

His faceplate retracted and he locked eyes with the kid who was staring at him.

 

“Is your name Ned?”

 

The kid nodded.

 

“Okay Ned, here’s what we’re gonna do, when I tell you to, I want you to take the tourniquet off him as fast as you can so I can web him. Can you do that?”

 

Ned swallowed and nodded again.

 

“Okay.”

 

Tony grabbed Peter’s limp wrist and worked the web shooter off it. When it came off he stuck his fingers in and searched for the trigger plate. When he found it, he positioned it over the leg then nodded to Ned who untied the sleeves of his hoodie.

 

Blood started oozing out of the wounds and Tony pressed the trigger.

 

Friday was right, the bullet wounds were odd, they almost looked like he’d been shot with a shot gun. Within seconds he had the wound covered and when he was done he passed the web shooter to Ned, “Go around and use that on anyone who’s bleeding until it runs out okay? There’s a pressure plate on the inside and when you push it’ll discharge.”

 

The kid took it and ran down the hallway.

 

“Friday?”

 

His faceplate dropped back down and he scooped Peter up as gently as he could. The kid’s head rolled limply and Tony felt a wave a nausea hit him.

 

“Flying is too risky, Mr. Stark, I suggest taking the stairs.”

 

“Okay, take a scan of the gun if you can find it.”

 

“Of course, I’ve also sent Ms. Cho an update to Peter’s condition.”

 

Tony walked down the hallway with Peter in his arms and kept his eyes straight ahead. There were a few students in the hall but he couldn’t look at them. He’d already seen enough horrors for one day. Just as he reached the stairs a police offer bolted through the doorway then froze.

 

“The shooter,” he asked.

 

Tony used his head to gesture behind him, “Neutralized.”

 

The officer nodded then yelled down the stairs, “We need a stretcher and an ambulance for Spiderman!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter to write, I rewrote it about four times before I was finally happy with it.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning the next chapter is going to be graphic. 
> 
> I'm also aware that eighty-seven people is a lot, but we'll get into that later. 
> 
> This is not meant to make light of school shootings.


End file.
